Another shot fired, then two more in rapid succession.

The smell of sulfur and burnt gunpowder instantly filled the study, sharp and stinging.

I looked up through the haze to see Silvio diving behind the leather sofa, his gun raised.

Leo was retreating toward the heavy desk, firing wildly as he moved.

One of Leo’s guards slumped against the bookcase, clutching his shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers.

Behind me, the back of the brick fireplace groaned.

The heavy iron grate swung outward on rusted hinges, revealing a dark, narrow gap in the stone.

A draft of freezing, subterranean air rushed out, smelling of rotting wood and old brick.

“Go, Clara!” Dominic shouted, his hand gripping the edge of his chair as he tried to pull himself upward.

His face was pale, sweat beaded on his forehead, but his eyes were fixed on me.

“The chimney,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

I scrambled on my knees, dragging myself and the twins toward the black opening.

Behind me, the desk chair shattered under a hail of bullets.

Wood splinters flew through the air, one of them scraping across my cheek.